


My Precious

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mental Instability, Obsessive Behavior, Pre-Canon, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 01:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20267929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Denethor has never known loyalty like that of Théoden, Thengel’s son.Everyone else has betrayed him.Théoden was the only one he could ever count on to stay.





	My Precious

**Author's Note:**

> So this is sort of dark and I have no clue why it came to my mind, but for some reason I wrote it down.
> 
> Basically, Denethor has ALWAYS been a bit nuts and poor Théoden’s gentle heart was always meant to be the end of him.

Denethor knew little in the ways of friendship in the days of his youth and beyond.

As the Lord Steward Echthelion’s heir, he was the noblest of all noble children in Gondor. Very near to a prince, Denethor assumed to be considered. The only prince that his Kingdom had. Blood of the greatest quality ran through his veins.

So why then, did he have so small a crowd willing to follow him? Why were his friends so few?

The Steward’s son could not find an answer to this most troublesome riddle. 

Even his own father would rather lavish his attention upon Mithrandir the Wizard and that stupid outlaw mutt Thorongil, who had all but wandered out of the wilds like a dog and placed himself at the steward’s feet in gratitude for allowing him to serve the Kingdom of Gondor.

Denethor hated them both. For they had stolen his father’s love away from him, and in doing so, they had left him truly alone.

And so this was the inner turmoil that led him to seek the companionship of the golden haired prince that he had long admired from afar.

Théoden of Rohan only ever came to the White City when his father, Thengel, the King, tool council with Ecthelion. 

Such visits were few and far between, but that didn’t stop Denethor from developing a desperate longing for the young prince of the Horse Lords. 

He sought Théoden’s friendship first, and he can always remember the day, the way the sunlight paled in comparison to the gold in the prince’s locks, and the tender, endearing nature he had shown as his littlest sister held tightly to his hand wherever he walked through the streets of Minas Tirith. 

Denethor approached him, greeted him, and with a few sweetened words and a rather deceptive smile he had gained the prince’s trust, and shortly after, he gained his love in friendship. 

For months over years, Denethor awaited desperately for Théoden’s return to Gondor, and to the Citadel where their fathers had their words of ruling. 

It was never enough, and the longer Denethor lingered in solitude and bitterness, the more his attachment to Rohan’s prince began to twist and mishaps itself into something much more sinister. 

Denethor remembers clearly when the Rohirrim rode forth to the White City during the Winter of his nineteenth year. 

He’ll remember that day, or rather the night that followed, until the day that he draws his final breath.

Fondly, he remembered how he came, uninvited, to the quarters that were given to Théoden for the remainder of his father’s visit. 

The prince, who had only just reached his own nineteenth birthday, seemed ever the sweet, naive youth that Denethor had known throughout his earlier years. 

“Hello, Den.” The golden prince had greeted his friend with an endearing smile. “Come drink with me. Your kitchen staff have been kind enough to leave a bottle of wine for me here.” 

Oh how deliciously innocent the prince still remained, even now that he was grown and a man.

Ofcourse, that had always been the appeal.

Théoden was kind, and cheerful, his heart gentle and filled with mercy unmatched by any man. 

He was everything that Denethor was not, and everything that he had always craved and been denied.

He drank that night with the Prince of Rohan, and when platonic laughter had changed much later to clumsy, drunken kisses, Denethor still held enough consciousness to feel his nether regions burn with want. 

That was, until Théoden grunted in displeasure and pushed him away. “No.” He had told Denethor. “We can’t do this, Den.”

“Why not?” The Steward’s son had hissed, his tone rather harsher than he would have intended if he had been sober.

Théoden frowned and shook his head, even as Denethor continued to touch him, sliding the cold palms of his hands up the prince’s thin tunic to stroke the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric.

“Den...” He spoke more firmly, grasping Denethor’s wrists to stop him. “I am to be wed when my father and I return to Edoras.”

“Do you think I care?” Denethor snarled in reply, pulling free of Théoden’s grasp and shoving the prince back onto the bed, leaning down to kiss his mouth hard and with absolute intent to have his own way. “I’ve wanted you for so long...” He whispered then as Théoden struggled to push him away. “Oh, my sweet prince, why do you fight me?”

“Denethor!” Théoden whined at his friend. “You’re drunk! Release me this instant!”

“Oh, but you don’t want me to do that.” Denethor chuckled, letting his grip lighten on the wrists of his poor captive. “You want me too. You want me so terribly. Don’t you, Théo?” He moved to kiss the prince again and this time, the resistance he received from Théoden was almost non existent.

“My betrothed...” He worried sweetly as Denethor stripped him of his garments, kissing still his mouth and the crook of his neck with dominating force. “She...She wouldn’t...”

“She won’t know of what we’ve done.” Denethor promised, their kisses becoming more heated as the last few shards of clothing between them were removed. “No one will...”

“Den...” Théoden moaned out as his undeniable arousal rutted against Denethor’s own hardness. 

“You’re so beautiful, Théo.” Denethor whispered to his lover before he took hold of him once more and roughly turned the prince onto his belly. 

“Den, I don’t...” Théoden started to object.

“Shh, dear. I’ll be gentle with you.” The dark haired man whispered in the prince’s ear before he spat onto his hand, slicking  
his fingers.

Théoden said not a word against his companion’s fingers entering his body and stretching his passage for something much larger to come. However, he did groan and whimper and cry out as Denethor prepared him, using only his own saliva to ease the way. It was terribly uncomfortable, but still, he did not throw Denethor aside. 

“So beautiful...” Denethor whispered hungrily, bending to press a long kiss between Théoden’s shoulder blades. 

He withdrew his fingers then and the prince grunted at the sudden emptiness he felt after. 

Denethor chuckled and used the tip of his thumb to gently massage the outer pucker of Théoden’s entrance while his other hand rubbed more of his own spit over his painfully hard erection.

“Relax.” He told the prince when he moved finally to mount him, as an eager stallion would a mare. 

Théoden tensed and let out a cry, which Denethor muffled with a quick hand clasped over the prince’s mouth. “Shh, it gets better.” He promised as he inches forward slowly, gritting his teeth together and shutting his eyes right as he felt himself engulfed by Théoden’s warmth. It was everything he dreamt of and more!

“Den!” The golden prince sobbed then as his friend’s cock finally became fully lodged into his body. “Denethor, that hurts!”

“Relax then. I told you to do that earlier.” Denethor huffed, holding onto Théoden’s hips then as he began to move out again, just a bit, then pushed forward once more, bringing out another cry from the prince beneath him.

“I can’t!...” Théoden cried as Denethor thrusted into him.

“Shhh,” the steward’s heir hushed his chosen bedmate, continuing to move in and out of him at a steady pace. 

He had smiled when Théoden’s painful sobs turned to soft moans of satisfaction, and gradually he began to fuck him harder and faster.

“You’re mine, aren’t you, Théo?” He whispered into the other man’s ear as he pounded him into the mattress. 

“Mmhm....” Théoden grunted as he was taken, pushing back now to meet Denethor with every thrust.

“Say it!” Denethor demanded, giving the prince’s backside a hard smack and making him shout.

“I’m yours!” His sweet voice cried, sending Denethor over the edge to his orgasm.

“Yes you are....” He groaned as he spilled all of his seed into Théoden, taking the prince’s cock in hand soon after and rubbing him off to completion as well. “My sweet prince. My love.”

Denethor couldn’t have been happier the morning after their first night together, as he woke to see his lovely golden prince stirring from slumber at his side.

Théoden didn’t say much, but he hadn’t refused the kisses that Denethor had pressed to his mouth upon awaking and he returned the good morning that Ecthelion’s son had offered. 

“You were wonderful last night.” Denethor crooned to the prince.

Théoden blushed as he rose from the bed and reached for his discarded clothing that had been tossed about the room prior to their rather rough love making. 

“I’ve never been with a man before.” He admitted then. Though, Denethor had expected that to be the case.

“I do hope it was to your liking.” He smiled, crossing his arms behind his head and lying back against his pillow to watch his friend redress. 

“It was quite an experience.” Théoden admitted, though he wouldn’t look at Denethor. 

“Aye. You should come to my chambers tonight at the top of the tower.” Denethor had insisted greedily. “I have oil there. It won’t be as painful if we use that.”

Théoden hadn’t denied him then, and had showed up obediently to Denethor’s chamber door once every other man in the white tower had fallen into deep sleep. 

He had never denied him since, either. 

Even during the years that they were both wed, Théoden would come to Denethor in the dark of night and slip into his bed, allowing the Steward to use his body however he wished. 

He did it because he could see the love that Denethor held for him burning brightly in his eyes after every one of their intimate meetings, and truthfully, deep down, Théoden returned his friend’s feelings.

It was a good thing for Denethor that Théoden did not understand that the love he held for him had been tainted from the very start by fierce jealousy and no small amount of paranoia.

Denethor clung to Théoden as if he would be blown away into the wind at any given moment.

He was all that he had, and Denethor would not go back to the life he had known before Théoden’s affections. 

No other held love for him. Even his own sons now whispered and schemed behind his back.

Théoden, though, would never betray him. At least he had not yet.


End file.
